


imaginis augur

by myricarubra



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myricarubra/pseuds/myricarubra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cicero dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	imaginis augur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/gifts).



> This story was inspired by Cicero's letters and by a line in a book I read some time ago. Um. Toft, I would have liked to write something longer, but Petrarch didn't want to deal with my madness, so I ended up writing about sadder things. I hope you like this!

"Some dreams are true," says Ennius, "but not necessarily all."

 

There are people in the streets who sell dreams for a living. They spread their hands and they hide behind a smile, and at night, when you fall asleep, your ancestors speak to you of your future, and when you're about to wake up, they linger as you linger. Sometimes the ache is so strong that you follow them into their dreams. Sometimes you never wake up.

There are people in the streets who sell dreams for a living. (It is said that these people are magicians.) They look at you and they offer you their knowledge. They tell you to go home, and they tell you that sleep will come, and they tell you that your father will tell you your present, and that the father of your father will speak to you of the things to happen.

That night, Cicero goes to sleep early, and early they come to him.

The father of his father says to him, "Your words will be stolen from your body, and your body will be stolen from you," and his father says, "Your daughter is alive, and your wife dances on her grave," and when he asks them a question, they smile, and they grieve, and when they tell him of his future, he burns a candle for his past.

 

Tullius wakes up in Astura, and Tulliola is dead. His hands tremble as he writes a short letter to Atticus, and when the messenger comes, he thinks about the future, and he shivers.

 

*

"Sleep is regarded as a refuge from every toil and care; but it is actually made the fruitful source of worry and fear."


End file.
